


Intimacy

by lipsstainedbloodred



Series: visible world [5]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: AU, Domestic Fluff, M/M, domestic hurt/comfort, mild panic attacks, thigh kisses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:07:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24210340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lipsstainedbloodred/pseuds/lipsstainedbloodred
Summary: Jon very much wants to kiss Martin's thighs.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay/Jonathan Sims
Series: visible world [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1679638
Comments: 5
Kudos: 171





	Intimacy

**Author's Note:**

> My only note on my phone said “thigh kisses thigh kisses thigh kisses thigh kisses”, so this is that I guess.

Jon wakes up in a honey cocoon of warmth, trapped under the weight of Gerry’s arm slung over his chest and Martin’s leg hitched over his hip. He drifts there in that sweet in between, drunk on the relief of sleep he so rarely gets, and has half a mind to fall back asleep that way. The sun is just barely beginning to creep in through the half slotted shades of their window casting soft hues of yellow and orange across the light linen of their bedding. It’s enough light to make out Martin’s dark eyelashes fluttering against his cheek as he dreams, the soft spill of freckles across the bridge of his nose. In the end that’s what keeps Jon awake, tracing the line of freckles with his eyes and then, eventually, with the gentlest touch of his hand.

Martin hums when the movement wakes him, despite Jon’s care not to do so. His eyelashes flutter and then warm brown eyes are watching him, sleep soft and half amused. Martin takes hold of Jon’s wrist and brings his hand down to press a kiss to the center of his palm. 

“Hi,” Jon whispers, his fingers curling to brush Martin’s cheekbone.

“Hi,” Martin whispers back, his mouth pressed against Jon’s skin.

Gerry breathes out heavily against Jon’s neck, and his hand tightens its hold on Jon’s shirt. His voice, when it comes, is rough and dry, “Hush. S’early.”

Jon laughs. It was a kind of startled sound, like Jonathan Sims wasn’t used to laughing, a kind of punched out breath of a noise. He feels Gerry grip him tighter, the baring of teeth against his throat like an animal. 

Martin pitches forward across Jon’s chest to kiss the top of Gerry’s head.

Gerry bats at him irritably, but when he finally picks his head up there is no anger in his eyes. He does look exhausted, though, dark circles under his eyes and a furrow in his brow. 

Martin must see it too because he settles back a little, his mouth turning down in a worried little frown. His hand curls around the back of Gerry’s head, and Jon can see his fingers rubbing little circles against the taut skin there. “Sorry.” Martin mumbles.

Gerry shakes his head, his hand curling around Martin’s wrist to keep his hand in place.

There is something between Gerry and Martin that Jon doesn’t understand, though not for lack of trying. He can see it now, in the tremble of Martin’s jaw and the sudden sober wakefulness on Gerry’s face. He tries not to feel that familiar awkward ache in his chest that reminds him there will always be things about his partners that he doesn’t understand. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” Gerry says, clearing his throat.

“I--” Martin rushes out an exhale of a breath, an anxious sound Jon is all too familiar with.

Jon may not understand the nuances of speech that Gerry seems to be able to pick up on with Martin, but that sound he’s familiar with. He tucks himself closer to Martin, wriggling against him until he can press his head under Martin’s chin and tuck himself into his body. Jon is all bone, sharp elbows and hard skull, but he pretends not to notice the little flinches when he digs in wrong. He doesn’t settle until Gerry presses a hand against his spine to keep him still, and then he feels Gerry settle in close behind him. They’re crowding Martin, something that would ratchet Jon’s anxiety into a full blown panic attack, but has never failed to soothe Martin. He told them once he liked the closeness, that it reminded him he wasn’t alone. That they needed him.

“It’s alright.” Gerry says, once they’ve settled. “I can take a nap later.”

“Okay.” Martin breathes, slow and deliberate, and Jon can’t help but press a kiss to the center of his chest for it. Proud. “Yeah, okay.”

Jon feels Gerry’s hand in his hair, brushing it out of the way so he can press a kiss to the nape of his neck. It makes him shiver. Martin’s hand settles over his hip, big and warm like the rest of him and Jon tries to press in closer. He wouldn’t be satisfied even if they could share a body, he thinks, there was no true way to ever have them close enough. 

Martin’s legs tangle with his, bare feet brushing against Jon’s socked ones, and Jon is suddenly struck with a want so frantic it makes his head swim. 

Jon starts to squirm again, this time in an effort to put some distance between their bodies.

“Jon? Are you alright? Do you need some space?” Martin asks, taking his hands off of Jon.

Gerry shifts back too, giving Jon room to sit up.

“No, I--” Jon’s mouth feels dry and heavy, like someone has stuffed it with cotton. “I-I need you to lie on your back. I want to do something to you.” 

Martin’s eyebrows raise in something like shock. “I-- what?” His voice goes a little high at the end, blood rushing to his cheeks.

It takes a confused moment, but then Jon feels an embarrassed flush start to burn his ears. “ _ Oh _ , not-- not like that! Um, not a sexual thing, I just--” Jon chews on his bottom lip and stares up at the ceiling, red all the way down to his chest, “I would like to kiss your thighs? If- if you’ll let me.”

“Okay?” Martin says, a bit nonsensically, his voice still a bit shrill.

“You don’t--” Jon feels Gerry’s hand settle on his back, gently as though soothing a skittish animal. It’s grounding. Jon takes a breath and tries again. “You don’t have to if you’re not comfortable with that. I just-- the thought came to me and it’s something I would like to try.”

“Why?” Martin blurts. He looks genuinely confused and it makes Jon’s chest ache terribly. He reaches out to cup Martin’s face in his hands.

“Because you’re beautiful.”

Martin sucks in a wet breath and closes his eyes. “Alright.” He croaks, after a long moment.

“Are you sure?” Jon asks, “Because I don’t-- if you’re not comfortable--”

“No, it’s-- Gerry?”

“I’m right here.” Gerry says. He still has his hand on Jon, but he leans in close so he can tuck his face over Jon’s shoulder. “I’m here and nothing bad will happen.”

Martin nods, turning his face to press a wet kiss into Jon’s palm. “Yeah, okay. You’re right.”

“Of course I am.”

Martin laughs and Jon feels the knot in his chest release. 

It takes a moment to rearrange. Martin on his back with Gerry plastered to his side and Jon down between Martin’s legs. It’s a novel view, Jon thinks, and he quite likes it if he’s honest. He lets himself lay there on his stomach for a bit, trailing his hand gently over the coarse dark hair on Martin’s shin and calf. He presses his lips to a knee first, unable to help himself when his fingers drag over a patchy road rash scar from Martin’s youth. He hears Martin’s sharp inhale and moves his focus upward. 

Like the rest of him, Martin’s thighs are big and soft. Covered in that same wiry dark hair that covers his lower legs but sparser and a little softer. Jon lets his fingers map the skin there, brushing over very thin, parallel lines of scar tissue with as gentle of a touch as he knows how. He wants to commit it all to memory, pushing up the material of Martin’s sleeping shorts so he can see more, touch more. 

“Jon, focus.” Gerry says softly.

There’s just so much for Jon to touch, to taste. He closes his eyes and just presses his face into Martin’s leg to stifle a noise. There’s a hand in his hair, not pushing or pulling, just holding. It must be Martin’s because it’s so careful not to pull. 

Jon looks upward. “Sorry, I--”

“It’s alright.” Martin’s still red faced, flushed from his ears down his neck to wear it disappears under his shirt. “It’s-- I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Jon furrows his brow, his lips turning down, “ _ I’m _ the one that asked  _ you _ .”

“That doesn’t mean you consent to-to turning me on or--” Martin sputters. 

Jon swallows. “Oh, is that what you’re upset about? That- that I’ll be mad if you--”

“Yes,” Martin exclaims in a rush of breath, “I just-- there are boundaries and I don’t always know where they are and I don’t want to push you past them if you’re not comfortable.” He takes a sharp breath, “And I don’t want you to push past your own discomfort to-to make me happy or--”

“Stop.” Gerry says softly. He curls his hand over Martin’s heart. “Take a breath.”

Martin does, though it sounds painful. 

Jon tries to rock back, but Martin’s hand holds him in place, so he just awkwardly rests against Martin’s thigh, his thumb rubbing circles into the skin in an effort to soothe away the tension gathered there.

“Good Martin,” Gerry says, “let’s talk, okay? It sounds like you’re worried about putting Jon into a sexual situation that he can’t escape from, is that what you’re worried about?”

“Well I-- yeah.”

“Jon, if you become uncomfortable at any time would you let us know?”

“Of course,” Jon says.

“And would you ever swallow your discomfort just to make us happy?”

“No.” Jon says and pushes up into Martin’s hand as if to make a point. “No, I wouldn’t.”

Martin shudders out a breath. In and out. In and out. Until finally he goes pliant under Jon’s hands. Jon presses a kiss to his thigh in thanks, his eyes falling shut. 

“Sorry,” Martin mumbles, “sorry for-- for doubting you, I guess, Jon. I know, well...I know better, I suppose.”

“It’s alright.” Jon says, gently squeezing Martin’s leg. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No, I think I’m alright now. The, uh, the knot in my chest is gone.” 

“Good.” Gerry hums and presses a kiss to Martin’s neck. 

“Thank you Gerry.” Martin says and tilts his head down for a kiss.

Jon shifts Martin’s leg over his shoulder, pinning the other thigh down with his hand. He takes his time, covering the skin with his lips and fingers until he’s satisfied. Little purple bruises bloom under his teeth and tongue and Martin hums softly when he presses at them gently with his thumb. 

He switches to the other leg, holding and kissing until his mouth feels sore and the skin is slick with sweat and saliva. Martin’s hand in his hair alternates between scratching at his scalp gently and cradling the back of his skull. When he finally feels satisfied the sun is well past rising and Gerry climbs out of bed with a grumble about making something to eat.

Jon crawls up to take his place against Martin’s side, tangling his fingers into a small hole near the bottom of his sleep shirt and making it worse. Martin presses a kiss to his temple, sweet and slow.

“Thank you.” Martin says, though for what Jon doesn’t know.

“Do you think Gerry will bring us something to eat?” Jon asks.

“Probably not.”

“Mm,” Jon untangles his hand from Martin’s shirt like he means to get up, “we should get up then.”

“In a minute,” Martin says, reaching for him. Jon goes easily, allows himself to be pulled fully across Martin’s chest. “Just-- stay with me for a minute.”

“Okay,” Jon says, pressing a kiss to the first open bit of skin he can reach. “Okay.”


End file.
